


hello, goodbye, i think i loved you once before

by stardusting



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Reincarnation, let's get y'all some fruit, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardusting/pseuds/stardusting
Summary: There’s a boy in Prompto’s class with eyes the color of the night sky.There’s something oddly familiar about him, a sense of nostalgia for a time he can’t place just by looking.





	hello, goodbye, i think i loved you once before

There’s a boy in Prompto’s class with eyes the color of the night sky.

The boy doesn’t talk to anyone, silent both in and out of class. People have stopped trying to talk to him, and the teachers rarely ask him to answer questions. Prompto’s oddly drawn to him though, finds his gaze focused on him while the boy has his own gaze focused on the scenery outside the window, silhouette framed by the light of the sun.

There’s something oddly familiar about him, a sense of nostalgia for a time he can’t place just by looking. Prompto wants to talk to him, wishes he had the courage to initiate a friendship with someone else. He’s afraid of being shot down though, of getting the silent treatment so many other classmates have gotten in the past.

He tells this all to Luna, the manager of the store he works at and longtime friend. She tells Prompto that he should try, so he won’t regret not having tried in the first place. And it makes sense really. Luna’s like that though, wise beyond her years despite being only four years older than Prompto.

“What if he hates me?” Prompto asks after hearing Luna’s suggestion. He can’t help the bad thoughts that float in his head on some days. They’re especially loud when concerning the boy with night sky eyes.

His question makes Luna sigh, but her eyes are gentle and tone firm when she says, “No one could ever hate you, you’re too earnest. Besides, have you done anything for him to hate you?”

“No,” Prompto bites his lip and adds, “but I accidentally stare at him a lot. I feel like he knows I do.”

“You said he sits in front of the window, correct?” when Prompto nods, she continues, “then if he asks about it, just tell him you like looking out the window too. No harm done.”

It’s an easy enough lie, a half-truth really, Prompto can tell it if he has too.

Luna places a hand over Prompto’s own, her fingers softer and smaller than his, no scattering of freckles despite the fact that they’re nearly the same sort of pale. Her nails are tipped with a blue that reminds him of the sky during a clear afternoon.

“Talk to him, Prompto,” she says, her voice soft, almost like a plea or a prayer. It makes Prompto think for a moment of the people who used to pray to the old gods, the Astrals. “he probably needs a friend.”

Prompto nods his head and promises because that is enough.

 

-

 

“I’m Prompto,” he introduces himself three days later once he can work up the courage to at least say his name.

The school day is over, the dusk sun streaming through the window and casting the classroom in warm glows of orange and pink. He stands in front of the boy’s desk and smiles and hopes he’s seen.

The boy pauses in the middle of packing his bag to raise his head, and when their gazes catch each other for the first time, it feels like the world stops. Rather, the world keeps going for the march of time ceases for no one, but it suddenly feels like they’re the only two people in the entire room, in the entire universe. Prompto feels his heart stutter and stop and something indescribable bloom where his heart is.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy says, his voice has a tired drawl to it like he’s used to speaking while half asleep, “I’m Noctis.”

That’s a common name. Prompto has probably had a Noctis of some variant in every one of his classes since primary school. It’s been a long time since the Dawn King ended the Time of Darkness and essentially saved the world, but everyone loves him still even if they’ve forgotten his face. People think naming their children after him will bring them wonderful and successful lives.

Prompto thinks the Dawn King’s life was a tragedy, prophesized to die before he had a chance to fully live. The name, though, it seems to fit the boy in front of him. He’s unable to imagine Noctis being called anything else, like it’s a name only he can properly bear the weight of.

He suddenly realizes they’ve been silent a long time, and Noctis is probably waiting for him to say something. “Do you…uh…wanna maybe check out the arcade together? I heard they brought in a new game last week, haven’t been able to look myself.”

Noctis stands from his chair with all the grace of the old kings, posture relax yet somehow regal at the same time. Prompto has never known someone their age so assured of the placement of their body. His fingers itch for the camera nestled at the top of his bag, but it would be rude to retrieve it.

“Sounds perfect,” he says and just like that, things fall into place.

 

-

 

Noctis is Prompto’s first real friend, and it’s amazing how easy their comradery is, like they’ve known each other their entire lives rather than a few months. Luna’s happy that Prompto could find a friend in the form of a boy that was lonely, her smile is bright and her eyes relieved when he tells her.

“You deserve it, Prompto. You both do.” She says in that soft and sure voice of hers.

Prompto can’t help but believe every word of it.

 

-

 

“Why do you take so many pictures of me?” Noct asks one day.

It’s the weekend, so they decided to spend it at Noct’s apartment. They’re pressed against each other on the couch, shoulders to hips to ankles all flushed together, going through the pictures Prompto’s taken this week. He thinks this is what he loves the most, how easily that can be in each other’s spaces and have it not ever get awkward.

“Dude,” Prompto can’t help but scoff, turning his head so he can look Noct in the face, “you’re, like, extremely photogenic. It’s kinda unfair actually.”

Noct huffs a pretty sound and turns; they’re close enough that Prompto can count each individual eyelash that fan Noct’s cheek when he blinks, close enough that he can tell his eyes are much more beautiful up close.

He kisses him, Noct does to Prompto that is. It a chaste and simple thing, long enough for Prompto to know that Noct’s lips are in fact as soft as they look, but short enough that it leaves him wanting more. There can be more to this, he thinks, he can have this.

“Sorry,” Noct apologizes, voice thick with an emotion that Prompto can’t quite place. He doesn’t make a move to turn around and reaffirm a distance between them though.

Prompto swallows, licks his bottom lip, and watches how Noct’s gaze flickers to follow the movement. It’s a little exciting and a little scary how much Prompto realizes he cares for this other person. Like he can learn to love him one day, like he might already be in love.

They’re young though, they should be allowed to have this. “Don’t be,” Prompto says, more sure of this than anything. And this time, they meet in the middle.

Their first few are imperfect, as first kisses have the tendency to be, they’re learning each other in a new way, after all. Their teeth knock and noses bump and it gets a little too wet at times, but they’re enthusiastic in their endeavors and that more than makes up for it. Fingers tangled in hair and arms wrapped around each other, each surfacing from a kiss results in breathy laughter. In the moments between, Noct looks at Prompto with so much soft intensity, that it’s a little frightening, but he doesn’t mind the idea of getting used to it.

When they’re done, it ends with Prompto laying on the couch, Noct on top of him, an impossible tangle of teenage limbs. Noct’s lips are kiss swollen, his face pleasantly flushed, his eyes bright. He looks happy, and Prompto can’t believe he was the cause of that.

“So,” Prompto draws out the vowel, fingers combing through Noct’s hair, “Are we boyfriends now?”

Noct hums, cheek pillowed against Prompto’s chest, “Duh, unless you kiss all your best friends.”

“Nah, only you.”  

Always only him.

 

-

 

Their relationship shifts for the better, of course. They are unrestrained in their affections. Kisses every morning when they see each other and kisses at night if they have to part ways and kisses stolen between moments. They go on dates, hold hands on those dates, and drive around to take in sights with new eyes. Noct has taken up the habit of holding hands while he drives, their fingers intertwined and matching grins on their faces.

Prompto doesn’t remember a life before Noct, only that was a little lonely and the fact that he felt like he was lacking something important.

But now, he feels whole, like nothing in the world could tear them apart.

 

-

 

One night, Prompto dreams and remembers. He remembers Noct as a prince turned king of a destroyed and conquered land turned to a king Prompto helped march to his death for the greater good of the world. He remembers Gladio and Ignis and long drives in a car and fierce battles with beasts and deamons. He remembers the barcode on his wrist and dog he found and loved and a letter that changed his life. He remembers everything of a life remembered by no one, all traces of lost to the march of time and the fires that burned Insomnia.

He wakes with tears streaming down his face, mind only filled with thoughts of Noct and how grateful he is that they have this. Even if it took them centuries to finally reach this point.

 

-

 

“I remember.”

They’re walking hands intertwined through a park. There’s snow on the ground and not many people have bothered to venture out in the weather, but Noct bears it because he knows Prompto loves the snow.

“That there’s a test on Monday?” Noctis fills, playful grin turning the corner of his mouth.

Prompto blinks, wide-eyed because he did forget about that, so he’ll need to cram for it later. But that isn’t the important thing right now. It can wait.

“No,” Prompto pitches his voice low. This is a secret just for the two of them, “I remember everything from before. Our lives before. You being the last king of Lucis and all that.”

Noctis stops suddenly, something that Prompto doesn’t realize until there’s a resistance in the direction they’re walking. He goes to asks what’s wrong, but the words die in his throat when he sees the look on Noct’s face. It looks sad and regretful. It makes Prompto uncomfortable.

Prompto frowns, suddenly unsure and worried, “Noct…”

“I’m sorry,” Noct says, his voice so soft that it’s almost taken away by the winter breeze.

“Noct?” Prompto repeats, urgency and nerves making his voice pinch tighter, “Noct, what’s wrong?”

The distance is closed between them once more, Noct resting his free hand against the curve of Prompto’s cheek, his thumb running back and forth under his eye. His fingers are cold, but Prompto leans instinctively into the touch.

“You weren’t supposed to remember,” Noct whispers, the final word cracking under the weight of all the emotion in his voice. “I made a deal with the Astrals. You weren’t supposed to remember.”

Prompto shakes his head, feeling his own fingers shake, “I don’t understand, Noct. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Can’t,” Noctis says simply, and Prompto feels a brushing of lips against his forehead. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

This is the last thing Prompto hears before he forgets.

 

-

 

Prompto wakes in his room later that night, a name forming on his lips before dies out like a flicker of something unrealized. The name dies as well as all the emotions that go with it. He thinks it might have been _Noctis,_ but he hasn’t spoken to someone with that name in years.

He feels a hole in his chest like something was just torn from his life, but he can’t figure out. It bothers him, but there’s no fixing it if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.  It must be his perpetual loneliness, he sighs, flopping back on his bed and going back to sleep.

Tonight, he has no dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> *sips my caprisun* i did in fact make myself cry while writing this


End file.
